Chapter 9: For the Record

I woke up to my husband's voice outside my window, and it was warm.

That was how I knew something was wrong.

The quilt that had fallen off my shoulders was not one of mine.

I put on my coat over my nightgown and went to the door.

The gravel lane was lit by one yard light.

Connor stood in the middle of it in his good wool coat, holding up his phone.

Abraham faced him ten feet away in an undershirt and work boots, with his hands open at his sides.

"Go ahead," Connor was saying. "Tell me what you're doing out here at two in the morning with my wife."

Abraham's jaw was tight, and he was giving Connor nothing to use.

I walked down the step and stood between them.

Connor swung the phone toward me with a delighted look.

"There she is. Jo, tell the camera how you're feeling tonight."

I looked into the little black lens, and I smiled at it.

"Hello," I said. "I'm Joanna Ellery, and it's two in the morning."

Connor's smile slipped, just a little.

"I live here," I said. "I pay eleven hundred dollars a month."

"Jo."

"The man filming my window is my husband," I said. "He's trespassing on private property."

The phone dipped an inch.

"I haven't hurt myself," I said to the lens. "A police officer sat in my kitchen last Saturday and wrote that down."